White
by Zelland
Summary: Han questions Leia's choice of wardrobe. For the FanFiction 100 prompt "White".


**Disclaimer: ****Star Wars and all corresponding characters and settings belong to George Lucas. He is their bearded creator. **

**A/N: I'm baaaack. And quoting 80's horror flicks.** **I apologize for my extended leave of absence, but the last 8 months really kicked the living daylights out of me. School [insert: work, life] sucks. 'S all I'm saying.  
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**"Hey, Your Woshipfullness."

Her gloved hand clenched as she quickened her pace. She was in no mood for any sort of good-natured verbal sparring, she told herself firmly, skirting round a couple of pilots emerging from a supply closet, their arms heavy with wire and wrenches. Perhaps if she ignored him he would give her up as a lost cause.

Sliding slightly on a patch of ice, she rounded a corner with the thought that if she managed to make it to the mess hall, she could lose him in the crowd. But even her accelerated stride was no match for his long legs, and she sighed audibly as the sound of his boots crunching on the snow swiftly overtook her.

"What," she said irritably, not sparing him a glance as she continued to pound her path to the mess hall.

"Relax, Princess," Han said, falling into step beside her. "There's no need to run away from me."

"I was not running away from you," Leia responded tightly.

"I know, you can't trust yourself in my presence," he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice.

"Solo that is hardly my problem with you," Leia huffed, keeping her eyes trained forward as they turned another corner together.

"Hey, don't try to deny it. It's perfectly understandable," Han waved a hand airily. "I mean, a gorgeous guy like me--"

Leia rounded on him. "Will you stop it," she snapped, "you are ridiculous. Leave me alone."

Han raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me, Your High-and-Mightiness. Somebody's a little uptight today."

Leia scowled at him and turned on her heel, resuming her quick, deliberate pace. Han followed.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she said, "I'm terribly busy at the moment."

"With what? Dinner?"

"Yes, actually," she shot back. "I'm lucky I have time to eat at all. I have a stack of reports to go through this evening, plus a debriefing on the Droma mission--" her shoulders tensed in mounting frustration--"Then I have to attempt to make contact with a group in the Havvrol Sector about a weapons deal, and do you have any perception of how difficult it is to send or receive any sort of message through that asteroid field with our equipment--?"

Leia trailed off and inhaled deeply. She glanced up at Han to find his face alight in amusement. "What?" she said, stopping in her tracks. Han laughed as she was forced to put a hand out to steady herself against the wall when her boot caught on a frozen chunk of snow.

Leia's felt her annoyance swelling into anger. "What is it?" she snapped. "Is there actually something you wanted, or are you just being infuriating? I have things to do, you know."

Han waved her words aside. "I had something to ask you," he said, his voice thick with a suppressed grin.

"Then ask it," Leia exhaled, her hand still braced against the wall.

Han shoved his gloved hands into his parka pocket and regarded her for a moment. "Why do you always wear white?"

"I--what?" Leia blinked.

"Why do you always wear white?" Han repeated slowly.

Leia stared at him blankly. "I don't have time for this," she said, turning to continue her march to dinner.

"Wait a second," Han caught hold of her elbow and she immediately wrenched it away, ignoring him. With several long strides he was in front of her, blocking her path.

Leia glared up at him. "Stop it." He had stuck out a long arm to learn against the wall, preventing her from ducking past him, so she crossed her arms firmly and scowled at him.

"I was serious," Han said, watching her heave a sigh of annoyance and roll her eyes upwards.

"For several reasons," Leia said stiffly, addressing the ceiling.

"Such as?" he shifted his weight slightly, causing her to pivot so that her back hit the wall. Her gaze snapped to his and she raised her eyebrows.

"Such as," Leia said, slipping her arms to her sides and pressing her palms against the frozen wall, pushing herself as much away from it as the distance between them would allow, "I am a member of the High Command, and an Alderaanian. Not to mention I was a Senator."

As she spoke, Leia's eyes darted to the flickering lighting fixture to the right of Han's head. She made a mental note to alert one of the techs. The only other source of light in the deserted corridor was the faint glow where it joined the much brighter passage some fifteen yards away.

She looked back at Han to find him watching her. She frowned. "That's why I always wear white, now will you please move so that I can go to dinner."

"Really?" Han said, inclining his head slightly, "because I've seen the rest of the Command wearing other colors, but you, you're always in white."

Leia's frown deepened. "What does it matter what they wear? This is an inane topic of conversation," she moved closer to his arm, preparing to duck beneath it.

"How about the real reason you're always in white." Han said.

Leia froze, her eyes unwillingly tugged up to his. She swallowed, and the silence swelled between them. He was very close. "Because," she said finally, rather less snippily than she'd meant it to be, "I suppose I don't often feel very colorful."

He stared down at her somberly, and she up at him, their foggy breath swirling together in the frozen air. The only sounds in the dim, deserted passageway apart from their breathing and her heart--which had suddenly sped up to twice its usual speed, and surely he could hear it--was the faint chatter and clinking of cutlery that floated from the mess hall at the end of the adjoining corridor.

She felt her chin tilt up the merest fraction of a centimeter, his head incline ever so slightly . . .

His comlink beeped.

Without changing his stance, his eyes never leaving hers, Han reached to his belt and detached the blinking device. He raised it to his lips. "Solo."

He blinked, and Leia's eyes snapped to the comlink as a disgruntled whining buzzed through it.

Han frowned lightly, his shoulders shifting as he let his weight rest more heavily on the hand braced against the wall. "Well did you try kicking it?" he drawled. His eyebrows shot upward as an angry roar answered. "All right, all right. Kest, Chewie, I was just kidding," he said swiftly. "I'll be right there."

He pushed himself away from the wall, turning wordlessly to make his way down the passage. The sudden absence of his body heat left Leia rather dazed as she watched him go.

Reaching the end of the corridor, he suddenly spun on his heel. "It looks good on you, though."

"What does?" Leia called after him.

"The white." Han flashed her a lopsided grin, slipping lightly round the corner and into the brightness at the end of the passageway.

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**A/N: Reviewers get a dimly lit passage and an uncharacteristically tactful Han Solo to do with what they please.**


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